


The Chandelier

by maddymayscrawls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Babies, Galra Keith, I have no clue what to tag this sorry, baby shenanigans, by which I mean hes purple and fuzzy, de-aged character, tiny adventures zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 17:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddymayscrawls/pseuds/maddymayscrawls
Summary: Raising a baby is hard enough when they don't climb walls, jump seven feet in the air, and have teeth and claws that can rip through flesh.Too bad for Keith's father that his life is even harder.





	The Chandelier

**Author's Note:**

> Made in collaboration with looz-y on tumblr for the Tiny Adventures Zine! It was my first zine, and I was very happy to work alongside such amazingly talented people. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Support the artist here: http://looz-y.tumblr.com/post/174511574299/heres-my-piece-i-did-for-the-tinyadventureszine

There was something about it that always drew Keith’s eye. Perhaps it was a subconscious memory of the mobile above his crib that he would always grab at with a happy coo. Perhaps it was just the way it glittered in the early morning light. Maybe, just maybe, it was an instinct deep within him that his father could never understand. Regardless of the reason, there were many days that Keith would spend lying on his back in the middle of the room, staring up at the large, golden light fixture as if in a trance. It was a very simple pleasure, and one that he was entirely content with…

Until the day he decided he wanted to touch it.

For a normal child of one and a half years old, the task of reaching a chandelier fifteen feet off the ground would have been impossible. Luckily for Keith, he was not a normal child. Of course, he was unaware of this fact himself. He was even more unaware of the fact that most toddlers don't launch themselves seven feet off of the couch using only their chubby little legs for momentum.

This was his first plan. Though it was less of a plan and more of a connected stream of thoughts and impulses working together in his brain. He had started in his normal place, laying flat, eyes glued to the ceiling. Suddenly, he let out a small huff and rolled up off of the floor. He stood for a moment, eyes scanning the room slowly, before heading for the couch with a purpose. He struggled just a bit when he reached it, pulling himself up as he swung his short legs onto the cushion.

Once up, he stood for just a few more seconds to stare up at his target before beginning to bounce with a crouch. He started out low and slow, only managing to lift a few inches as he stayed cautious of his surroundings. As he began to feel more sure of himself, however, he put more force into his legs and began to soar off the couch. Three feet, four feet, five feet. As he began to reach higher heights his hands reached up toward the shining metal, intent on grabbing hold of just one arm. He became frustrated quickly. As he reached the top of his jump he could clearly see the chandelier in his hand, but when he went to close a fist around it, nothing was there. A wail ripped from his throat as he kept trying, trying, trying. It should be working. He should be up high, holding onto the light. So why wasn’t he? He felt the smallest prick of tears in the corner of his eyes as his lip began to wobble.

“Keith?!” a deep voice called from the doorway. It caused Keith to falter, and when he fell down again he landed on his back. It wasn’t painful with the cushions there to catch him, but he was a little shocked and lay there with his mouth hanging open. Soon, strong arms scooped him up and his face was smooshed against his father’s chest. “Don’t do that!” His father yelled, “It’s dangerous! You could get hurt!”

“Don’t” a warning to avoid a certain action. “You” a word referring to Keith, even though it wasn’t his name. “Hurt” a word he only knew from hearing it any time he was in pain. These were the only words Keith understood, but he heard the message loud and clear: no jumping on the couch. He wasn’t happy about this, and a small pout formed on his lips as his ears drooped a little, but he knew better than to ignore when his father told him not to do something. Especially when his voice was that loud.

Still, Keith had a goal, and this minor setback was not going to stop him from achieving it. As soon as he was out of his father’s arms, he waddled to the middle of the room and flopped back to stare at his coveted prize once more. After hearing a sigh, he glanced over in time to see his father shake his head before exiting the room, and then it was planning time.

It was not as simple as receiving an impulse and acting on it this time. He lay on the floor for quite some time before his father collected him for dinner. Once seated at the table with his bib firmly in place he determinedly shoveled his peas into his mouth, though his eyes kept wandering to the steak on his father’s plate. That was a battle he’d given up fighting a few months ago. No matter how many times he managed to steal it, it was always snatched away right before he managed to sink his unusually sharp teeth in. He would receive a light tap on the head from his father’s knuckles along with a stern, “No, you could choke.” So he now suffered through his soft fruits and vegetables in silence.

Upon finishing his dinner, Keith began to make disgruntled noises, reaching towards the floor. This usually worked to get his father’s attention to help him get down from his seat. This time, though, his father seemed to not be listening, simply slicing his last piece of steak in half and taking another bite. Frustrated, Keith unleashed his ultimate weapon.

“Da! Da da da da da!” He yelled, glaring. This technique never failed, and usually even seemed to make his father happy, giving extra incentive for Keith getting what he wanted. Not this time, though. This time his father poked his nose with a smile before finishing off his last bite and scooping Keith into his arms to walk to the living room. Here he turned on the television before settling on the couch with Keith in his lap. He showed no signs of letting Keith go, so he settled in to wait out his father’s grip until he could once again make his way to his favorite spot on the floor. Soon, however, the warmth of his father’s arms combined with the gentle rise and fall of the chest behind him had Keith falling into a comfortable slumber, postponing his plans for another day.

The next day was a fresh start, and the morning found Keith splayed out on the floor. He kept glancing around, but so far no ideas were coming to his mind. There just weren’t many options. The little table in front of the couch wasn’t tall enough or bouncy enough, and besides the couch it was the only furniture besides where the TV sat in an alcove in the wall. Keith blinked, lights slowly, slowly turning on in his head. He glanced again at the TV. Then, he raised his hands up in front of his face. He took in the sharp, sturdy nails as well as the rough, thick skin that graced his fingertips underneath. He lifted up his legs, too. He couldn’t see the bottom of his feet, but he knew they matched his hands.

He rolled over quickly and pushed himself into a standing position, his second plan suddenly formed. This was not something he had tried before. There was no telling if the plan was even plausible, but he wasn’t thinking about that. His mind was, once again, locked on continuing forward until his objective was complete. Getting onto the shelf with the TV was the easy part. He managed to pull himself up easily with just a few kicks of his legs. Then came the real test. He reached out to the wall to the side and dug his claws in. He did the same with his other hand before swinging off the shelf and gripping on with his legs.

With a stable grip, Keith began his trek up the wall. It wasn’t easy going. He was only able to move a few feet at a time, after all. But he forged onward nonetheless, lifting first a foot, then a hand, finding a simple rhythm. He only slipped once, his left foot not quite gripping, but he quickly recovered and continued. Soon, he had made it to a point completely above the crevice housing the TV. Not much longer until he would reach the ceiling, and then it was just a short distance to his prize. He lifted his foot once more...and froze as two large hands wrapped around his waist and plucked him from the wall.

“What am I going to do with you?” His father’s voice rumbled above him. A chuckle shook the chest now pressed to his back, “I’m really not the right man to handle this kind of thing.” Keith suddenly found himself lifted high, staring down at his father’s face as his limbs dangled, “No, Keith. No climbing the wall.”

“No”. It meant the same as “Don’t”. Another pathway shut off by his father’s command. He would have begun pouting again, but his father swung his arms around, causing Keith to giggle, sticking his arms out like an airplane. The chandelier could wait for a little longer…

It was several days before Keith found another chance. His father was keeping close watch on him, stopping him if he so much as headed in the direction of anything that could be seen as dangerous. He wasn’t left to his own devices until he had shown he could play without getting into trouble. Once he was, though, he found himself eyeballing the loft jutting out behind the chandelier. It happened to be just the perfect height to align with the light fixture. The only obstacle was the gate secured in front of the staircase, but for a child like Keith, this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

By gripping on to the railing, Keith was able to pull himself up and over the gate with relative ease. In fact, the awkward trip up the stairs proved to be more of a challenge, his legs being just barely too short to take normal steps. Nonetheless, he soon found himself in the loft. It was a new territory and a strange sensation seeing the house from this new angle. He took a moment to marvel before setting his sights back on his mission. It took a little time to figure out how to get onto the railing at the edge of the loft, but with the help of some discarded cardboard boxes he was able to make his way up. He perched on the rail momentarily, looking much like a fuzzy purple frog, before shoving off with his legs without a second thought. He flew through the air, arms stretched out, eyes fixed solely on the object in front of him. It felt like forever that he was in the air, but finally his tiny hand wrapped around the middle chain, and he pulled himself to sit atop the chandelier.

Having been pushed by the momentum of Keith’s flight, the light began to swing. For a moment, Keith gripped on tighter, scared by the movement, but then he realized that it was...kind of fun. In fact, it was amazing! His fur and hair blew around as the air whipped past him. His tummy did flips and twirls on every dip. Laughter bubbled up inside until he just couldn’t hold it in. It came out loud, uncontrolled, and almost sounding like a scream. This was probably what alerted his father.

He would have been scared or even disappointed when he heard the footsteps thundering into the room from down the hall, but he was much too busy enjoying his ride. That is, until…

“KEITH KOGANE!!!!” the loud voice thundered through the room. Keith jumped a little, almost losing his grip. He looked down, and the look on his father’s face was not one that he felt safe seeing. He gripped the chain tighter as his father pulled in a chair from the living room to stand on as he reached toward the chandelier.

“Keith...come here!...Just...Let me….” He grunted out the frustrated commands as he grabbed. The swinging motion kept the light just out of his grip. He did manage to hit one of the arms, but this turned out to be a bad move.

 

 

Keith was startled by the sudden movement, and this time his grip did slip. He fell backward off his perch, barreling toward the floor. He was dumbfounded for a moment before beginning to yell in fear. It seemed like forever before he felt his back hit something soft. In a moment he recognized his father’s chest, but he was already bawling as he was moved into a sitting position, his father pulling him close.

“This is why I tell you not to do these things.” his father said softly, kissing the top of Keith’s head, “Shhhh, it’s ok. Daddy’s gotcha. It’s gonna be alright.” A few more moments of soothing had Keith’s tears drying up into hiccups as he snuggled closer to his father. This was familiar. This was safe. He felt himself drifting off to sleep as his father whispered, “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?” he paused before, “I suppose I should start by buying you a swing…”


End file.
